


A Depăși

by harploon



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Canon, Young Whizzer, immigrant whizzer au, lil bit is in canon, many guitar appearances, marvin doesn’t make an actual appearance, trina and jason are mentioned but also dont make appearances, whizzer also plays the bass, whizzer and mendel being friends, whizzer brown let me hug u, whizzer is an intellegent individual, whizzer’s mom is in this, whizzer’s mom let me hug u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harploon/pseuds/harploon
Summary: a depăși (romanian)- to rise above+++“If I were, uh, I don’t know how to say it,” his eyes slide away from hers, and he focuses on the wall.“Don’t pull that with me. You’re super smart, Whiz, you can say whatever you want,”“You know what I’m getting at,”“If you were what? Queer?”





	A Depăși

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello it has been a hot second since i posted but i self-project into whizzer a lot so here he is speaking the language i am learning aka romanian uwu
> 
> i just have an immigrant whizzer au since hes got a silly name and nobody knows anything about his background. in this au he moved to west point in nebraska, before going to ny for college
> 
> anyways i hope yall like it :-)

His feet tap against the wall, the black and white glossy bass guitar resting in his lap as he plucks out notes, his best friend’s head resting next to his sneakers. She sways slightly with the rhythm, eventually leaning against his legs.

“What is that?” she inquires, looking at her dad’s instrument. 

He shrugs, flattening out his palm against the metal strings, “I’m just messing around.” His accent is almost gone now, months of watching TV and movies finally showing. 

Margot finally looks at his eyes, raising a light eyebrow, “Damn, really? It sounded like a real song, that’s really good.”

“There aren’t a lot of ways to get creative with a bass line,” he laughs, pulling on a string. The note rings out clear and low. He watches it vibrate.

“Play me something I know.”

“Uh,” his fingers stall over the strings, and he taps them lightly.

Whizzer begins to pluck out bouncing notes, tapping his foot on the wall along with the rhythm of the song, and Margot sways along with him. She bounces against him with more force, causing the bass to slide in his grip, and he tightens his grip on the neck.

“Do you really want me to break this thing? Your dad will hate me more than he already does if I do,” he jokes, sitting up straighter, the steel strings cutting into the ridges in his hand.

Margot’s eyes darken slightly across from him, and she gently covers his hand with hers, “He doesn’t hate you. He just gave you this old thing.”

“I know. It was really kind of him, too. It just sometimes feels like everyone in this town is pitted against me, you know? Like their hatred of me is some weird uniting force,” his smile dims as he looks down at their hands, pulling his away.

“Whiz, you know that’s not true,” she crawls closer to him, tucking her feet under her legs.

“Yeah, I guess,” his response is clipped, and he moves the bass from his lap to the floor next to him. He stands, dusting off his jeans and rolling his ankles. Margot tugs on his hand to get him to sit again, but he moves away instead. “Sometimes I wonder what they would think if they knew there was more to me than being a ‘dirty immigrant’.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Whizzer wrings his hands in front of himself, looking down at them again. He picks up the bass and slides it back into its worn leather case, snapping the metal clasps together. “Whiz?”

“I don’t know. I have just been thinking a lot lately.”

“Thinkin’ about what?” she rises to stand with him, touching his elbow gently. 

“Stuff,” he responds cryptically, moving to lean against her vanity across the room. 

Margot crawls onto her bed, looking at him curiously, “Ya know, you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know,” he looks up at her, tapping the edge of the vanity absentmindedly. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he shifts his weight uncomfortably.

“What are you tryin’ to say, Whiz?”

Whizzer straightens against the desk, sliding the chair out and sitting in it backwards. He leans his elbows along the back, placing his chin on top of his hands.

“I don’t know, I’m just talking,” he smiles softly at Margot, and she returns the gesture. 

“I’m here for you no matter what, honey,” she reaches her hand out to him, but he doesn’t to the same, and she frowns. 

“Are you, though? What if I killed someone?”

“Woah, Jesus!” Margot laughs raising her hands in the air, “That took a turn! Is that what you’re tryin’ to say? Want me to help you hide the body?”

Whizzer cracks a smile at that, looking at the floor, “You know I wouldn’t need your help with that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a weirdo who drives six hours every weekend to help a coroner a city over, I get it,”

“She is a forensic pathologist, not a coroner,” he frowns, looking back up at Margot with a smile ghosting his features.

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, exaggeratedly tossing a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. Whizzer laughs under his breath across from her, tapping his fingers again.

“But really, are you really here for me through anything?” Whizzer’s voice softens, and Margot frowns at him. 

“Of course. What are you goin’ on about?”

He shrugs, swinging his foot in a circle, “I mean, would you still be my friend if I were,” he gestures loosely with his hands, and Margot cocks her head. He gestures again, grasping for words. He opens his mouth to speak again, but closes it. 

“What’re you tryin’ to say, honey?” Margot’s voice is soft, too, like she knows what he’s getting at, but wants him to say it. 

“If I were, uh, I don’t know how to say it,” his eyes slide away from hers, and he focuses on the wall. 

“Don’t pull that with me. You’re super smart, Whiz, you can say whatever you want,”

“You know what I’m getting at,” 

“If you were what? Queer?” Whizzer’s face pales, and he nods weakley. “Of course I’d still be your friend, silly. That doesn’t matter to me.”

“It doesn’t?” he finally looks up at the short girl across from him again, his brows knitted together.

“Not at all. My daddy taught me that only God can judge someone, and that I should love everyone no matter where they’re from, what they believe in, or who  _ they _ love. I know a lotta people at school give queer people crap, but that’s just ‘cus it scares them. You don’t scare me, Whiz,”

“Oh,”

“I have a cousin that’s gay, she lives in Oregon with her girlfriend. We see ‘em every summer, my family doesn’t care. And if they do, they don’t talk about it,”

“I did not know that,” he glances up at his friend, and she smiles brightly at him. 

“She’s super cool, and I love her. It doesn’t matter that she likes girls. She’d be the same if she liked boys, just like you.”

He smiles softly at her again, but his frown remains, and he looks at her bedpost, “What do you think my mom would say?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Margot stands, walking over to where he sits and leaning against the vanity next to him. “Is that what you’ve been thinkin’ about?”

He nods, “That, and whether or not this is all a big overreaction.”

“Why would it be an overreaction?”

“I don’t know, there are no gay people here. You said your cousin lives in Oregon.”

“My cousin is one person. And there are only no gay people here that we know of, and plus, there are only like, a thousand people in West Point.  _ And  _ over half of them are stupidly religious and are already scared of you and your mom because you’re  _ spooky Jews _ ,” she says the last two words in a silly voice, drawing out the vowels and wiggling her fingers. Whizzer laughs again, his face beginning to relax. 

“I just don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice small. 

Margot places a hand on his back, “Are you worried she’s gonna kick ya out, or somethin’?”

“A little. I guess I’m just worried she will not be able to see me the same way anymore. She is all I have left,”

“Well, for starters, you have me, and she won’t, I promise. Your mom is super sweet and caring, there’s no reason why she would suddenly stop loving you because of something like this. You mean just as much to her as she does to you, this won’t change anything.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve met your mom, and I’ve seen you two interact. You both obviously care a lot about each other, and you’ve gone through a lot together. She wouldn’t bring you here for no reason, right? Didn’t she say she wanted a better life for you, with more opportunities?” Whizzer nods silently, still staring at the floor. “She’s done a lot because of how much she loves you, and you likin’ guys isn’t gonna change that. I’m sure she won’t even care all that much.”

“I’m still scared, though. Hearing all of those things that people say at school, what if she thinks the same? What if she can never see me the same way again? I just… I would not be able to deal with that,”

“Would you rather call her than tell her face to face? I have a phone in here, I can be with you.”

“I don’t know, is that wrong?” he finally looks up at her, dark eyes filled with worry. Margot smiles down at him. 

“Of course not, honey. It won’t cost much money, either, since she’s so close. Just ring her up, I’m sure she’s not too busy.”

Whizzer pauses, thinking her proposition over, but eventually shakes his head, “I think I should just head home and talk to her in person.”

“Okay. Let me know how it goes, I’ll be in here doing homework until around 6. Call me,” Margot pulls him into a tight hug, and he squeezes her gently. 

“I will try. Thank you, Margot,” she releases him, squeezing his arms comfortingly. 

“Of course. I love you, Whiz. No matter what,”

He smiles at her over his shoulder as he retrieves her father’s—well, his, now—bass, “I love you, too.”

She leads Whizzer down the stairs, closing the heavy wooden door behind him as he makes his way down the concrete steps, waving over his shoulder again before he opens his car door. He slides the bass into the back seat, shifting to face her garage in front of him as he places his hands on the wheel firmly. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling his ribs expand, exhaling sharply. He tightens his grasp on the wheel, shaking his head as he moves to put the car in drive, pulling out of Margot’s driveway as he prepares to spend the 2 minute drive rehearsing a speech in his head. 

Whizzer makes a left onto his street, his heart beating in his throat, and his fingers begin to go numb. He pulls into his garage, turning the car off with shaky hands as he listens to the metal door close behind him. He sits in the silent car for a moment, his mind suddenly blank, and an uncomfortable heat spreads across his chest. Whizzer exits the car, pulling the bass out with him, and enters his own house. 

His mother is standing over the stove when he enters, and she looks over at him with a bright smile. 

“How was your time with Margot, bebelus?” she asks him, and Whizzer feels his face flush. 

“It was fine. I need to talk to you,”

His mother’s brows furrow, and he exits the kitchen to place the bass gently on their worn couch, planting himself onto the cushions. Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, Whizzer inhales deeply, his hands still shaking. He hears his mother enter the room with him, the couch bending slightly as she sits next to him.

“What’s going on?” she places a small hand in the center of his back, and Whizzer’s taken back to his time in Margot’s room. 

“Fi atent, I have been thinking a lot lately, and I think,” he blinks rapidly, as if fighting back tears. The words are stuck in his throat, and he isn’t sure if he wants them to come out. 

“Are you okay? Is everything at school okay?”

“I’m fine, mama. I’m just,” Whizzer takes another deep breath, and his mother wraps her arm around him. 

“Are you sure? Bebelus, you are worrying me,”

Whizzer clenches his jaw, his entire body stiff against hers as he squeezes his eyes shut, “Mama, I think I’m gay.”

A silence falls over the small living room, and Whizzer can hear his blood rushing in his ears. He keeps his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing, and trying not to think about his mother’s silence. 

“Look at me,” she says finally, softly. Whizzer opens his eyes and looks up at her with shame, only to see her smiling down at him with a warm smile. “That is okay, ţiui. You are okay.”

The boy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his eyes rounding, “It is?”

“Yes. This does not change who you are. As long as you are good, I do not care who you love. You know that, bebelus. I will always love you, as long as you do not do anything illegal or immoral,” Whizzer leans into his mother’s hold, his entire body relaxing against hers. 

“I wasn’t sure if you thought a boy liking other boys was immoral,” he confesses quietly, and his mother shushes him. 

“No, no. I would never. There are very many bigger fish to fry,”

Whizzer closes his eyes again, this time out of calm instead of fear. His arms twist around to engulf his mother, pulling her into a tighter hug. She laughs quietly against her son’s chest, but returns the gesture. 

“I love you, mama,” he whispers into her hair.

She smiles, “Şi eu te iubesc, bebelus. But life will not be easy on you, you have to know. There are many people who do not think the way I do.”

“I know,”

“You are going to have to be very careful, for a very long time. There is no saying who will and will not be waiting to hurt you,”

“I know, mama. A lot of the people at school talk about that,” she pulls Whizzer tighter, squeezing him. 

“You are so much more than this. Do not let this or their hatred define you,” Whizzer nods against her head, and she releases him. She holds him at arm’s length for a moment, staring into her son’s eyes. “You will always rise above, as long as you let yourself.”

Whizzer nods, holding his gaze steady, and she presses a kiss to his forehead before standing, smiling down at him. 

“Now I have to get back to dinner. You should do your homework, or, teenager things,” she dismisses him with a wave, and Whizzer laughs as he sits back on he couch watching his mother exit the room. 

“Mama?” She looks back at him, eyebrows raised. “I miss home.”

Her demeanor softens, and she returns to sit next to him on the couch.

“Oh, bebelus.” She embraces him again, resting her cheek against his shoulder, “You will go back again one day. It will always be there, especially when you need it the most.”

He nods against her head, and they sit like that for a moment longer, both enjoying the other’s presence while lost in memories.

 

+++

 

Twelve years later and a thousand miles away, Whizzer stands with his back against an apartment door with a suitcase in his hands and the heavy case of a bass guitar under his arm. His eyes blur with tears and his hands shake with anger, his chest aching. The man squeezes his eyes shut, hot, angry tears running down his cheeks. Distantly, in the back of his head, he hears his mother’s voice, urging him to rise above. He raises his gaze to the sky, and he clenches his jaw.

“Eu voi,” he mumbles to himself, the once natural language now foreign on his tongue.

Whizzer turns on his heel away from the apartment, letting himself walk, until he turns up on the doorstep of the last person he thought he would go to. He stays on her couch for the night, staring at the ceiling for hours, stirring restlessly.

His gaze catches on a guitar in the corner of the room, dust on the headstock glowing in the moonlight. Rising from his perch on the couch, he removes the instrument from the stand, running his hand over the body to remove a layer of dust. His fingertips sting from the steel strings, but he plucks out the notes to a song that sits heavy on his heart. The rest of the evening he sits on the floor of a den he knows all too well, digging into a deep part of his mind, letting himself get lost in the instrument and the moonlight. 

A curly-haired psychiatrist appears at the base of the stairs before the sun does, watching the figure in his living room playing his guitar warily. Mendel steps closer, but Whizzer doesn’t hear him, too focused on the instrument in his lap. 

Mendel clears his throat, and the man on his floor jumps, looking up at him. 

“I didn’t know you played,”

“I was always bigger on the bass,” Whizzer nudges the case with his toe, shrugging. “It’s been a while.”

“I never really learned. I wanted to, but I was too busy with school,” the shorter man sits on the couch, and it groans under the weight. He winces. 

“I learned when I was little, but the guitar didn’t make the move,” Whizzer responds vaguely, and Mendel frowns. 

“I didn’t realize you weren’t raised here. I don’t know a lot about you,”

“Most people don’t.”

Mendel raises an eyebrow, “Got any interest in changing that? If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s listening.”

“Maybe one day.”

Mendel shrugs, rising from the couch, offering a hand to pull up the taller man along with it. He takes it, and the two move into the kitchen together, where Mendel brews coffee and pops toast in the toaster. Whizzer stands across the room from him, inspecting his calloused fingers and the fresh indents in them from the guitar. The curly-haired psychiatrist offers him a cup, which Whizzer takes with a nod, holding it with two hands. They sit in silence, neither man looking at the other. The sub begins to appear, shining a dim glow on the two.

Whizzer finishes off the coffee, placing the cup gently on the table before clearing his throat, “Well, I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

“Do you have anywhere to go?” he looks up at Mendel, stalling for a moment before responding. 

“I’ll find somewhere,”

“You can stay here until you do. I don’t wanna kick you to the streets, and Jason would love to see you again. I’m sure Trina won’t mind too much,”

Whizzer smiles softly, looking at his feet, “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to inconvenience you. I’ll be fine,”

“Stay. Just for a few more days,” Mendel urges. Whizzer looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think I’d be able to sleep if I didn’t make sure you had somewhere to go.”

Both of them laugh awkwardly, and Whizzer steps closer to the shorter man, reaching a hand out for a handshake as if sealing a deal.

“I’ll stay until you give me a ride to the airport, how about that?”

Mendel shakes his hand uneasily, meeting Whizzer’s eyes with an uncertain stare, “You got somewhere to go all the sudden?”

The taller man smiles gently, his eyes drifting away to the window. 

“I’m going home.”

**Author's Note:**

> translations (not the best since im still learning):  
> bebelus- baby  
> fi atent- listen  
> ţiui- whizz  
> şi eu te iubesc- i love you, too  
> eu voi- i will


End file.
